


You And The Sun On My Skin

by waitingtobelit



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kittens, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Other, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 05:38:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitingtobelit/pseuds/waitingtobelit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac wants to keep Marius more than anything in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You And The Sun On My Skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emmaliza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/gifts).



> For the lovely Emma, who needed some cheering up after the Australian elections. This is shameless fluff. Title comes from the Civil Wars song, "Eavesdrop," though I've substituted "sun" for "moon" here.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Les Miserables; this was written purely for recreational purposes.

Marius typically wakes up before Courfeyrac at some unholy hour prior to 9 am, so Courfeyrac, with his own habit of sleeping through everything short of an actual apocalypse, rarely gets to watch him at rest. He usually misses out on those long lashes fluttering like butterfly wings with each shaky intake of breath; his own breath hardly ever gets to falter at the small smile tugging at those full, pouty lips, or the way Marius’ thin hand reaches out against his own chest, as if to confirm the reality of their bodies entwined together in bed. Shaking off his sleep-fueled haze like an extra blanket, Courfeyrac slides up on the bed to get a better view of his dozing boyfriend.

Morning light filters through the cracks in between their emerald curtains, casting Marius’ myriad of freckles in a sheen of pale gold; he appears to be made of watercolors when he twists in the sheets, drowsy mumbling falling from his lips like spit. Courfeyrac can’t help but smile, glancing briefly again at those curtains, stolen from Marius’ grandfather the night after he called Marius “no better than a whore” for hanging around “that useless vagabond.” Glancing back to Marius with his head tossed to the side of the pillow, exposing his swan-like neck and bare chest, Courfeyrac’s own chest tightens as he recalls the similar way in which Marius sprawled beneath him as he fucked him into his childhood mattress that same night.  (And though, for once, they made an effort to keep quiet, Courfeyrac’s grin widens as the resulting whines and gasps around the handkerchief they eventually had to stuff into Marius’ mouth echo throughout his thoughts.)

Courfeyrac finds himself torn between wanting to wake Marius, repeating the experience, handkerchief and all, and simply counting the freckles on his nose before he buries it further into his pillow. Then he starts, unaware as his knee brushes against the firm flesh of his boyfriend’s back, struck by the realization that he has an actual reason for being up just beyond the crack of dawn. The obnoxious, even for Courfeyrac, pink flyer he’d grabbed from the community board in the Musain last week catches his eye from where he’d tossed it on his bedside table. He stretches for the paper without turning, wincing a bit at the ache in his muscles before scanning the advertisement’s text to ensure he got the correct date. He crumples and tosses the flyer into the void of their bedroom floor after confirming that, indeed, his memory is still in working order.

Incoherent muttering greets him from his right. He turns to find Marius staring up at him through sleep-ridden eyes; they match Courfeyrac’s favorite, chartreuse waistcoat in the morning light, rendering him momentarily speechless as guilt colors his cheeks a faint pink. In his jerky movements, he’d accidentally shoved his knee into Marius’ back, achieving his desire of waking the other man, though through less than ideal means.

“Did I sleep through the apocalypse, then?” Rusty from sleep, his voice creaks like the old floorboard in their kitchen. Courfeyrac shivers slightly at the warmth of it.

“No, and you’re not dreaming, either. I really am up this early.” Courfeyrac moves to draw the newly awakened man into his arms, pulling him into his chest to nuzzle at his messy hair and inhale his even messier fragrance of books, cheap wine, and that damn lovely, Wisteria soap he keeps using that lingers even when Marius isn’t around.

“But why?” He mumbles into the crook of Courfeyrac’s neck; Courfeyrac presses a kiss into his hair, lips trembling.

“Well, you know that animal shelter Mabeuf helps run? The one by the old church Bahorel’s banned from?” Courfeyrac begins as his stomach twists and turns; he feels Marius’ answering nod against his chest.

“They’re having a sale this morning and I just thought, well. Maybe you’d like to adopt a cat or something with me?”

The last part of his question escalates into a nervous squeak, an ugly, high-pitched sound unfamiliar to Courfeyrac coming from his own mouth. He keeps his gaze focused on the light coming in through the curtains. He has never reached the stage in any previous relationship where he’s felt the urge to obtain an animal with his significant other. Yet, when he glanced at the neon pink flyer Jehan posted last Monday night, the thought of sharing his apartment with Marius and some sort of warm, fuzzy creature struck him like a desperate hunger.

From what he understands of the evolution of relationships, through observing his cousin and her girlfriend throughout the years, he knows that adopting a pet with another person means you want to keep them. After dating for almost a year now, Courfeyrac wants to keep Marius more than anything in the world. The thought of losing Marius contorts his stomach into knots.

“You want to get a pet? Together?”

Marius leans back and scoots up in Courfeyrac’s arms until Courfeyrac cannot avoid meeting his widened eyes and face flushed as much as Courfeyrac’s; a slow grin opens upon his face like dawn breaking across the sky.

They remain like that for a moment, caught up in each other as the morning creeps in. Marius interrupts the quiet with a squeak as he hurriedly presses his lips to Courfeyrac’s, wrapping his arms around his neck. Happiness bubbling through him like champagne, Courfeyrac exclaims nonsense into Marius’ mouth and tightens his hold around his waist. He glances quickly over to their alarm clock and decides they can spare thirty minutes as he sinks into the sheets with Marius, limbs and lips entangling further in the ever increasing light.

\---

They manage to stumble out of bed and into respectable clothing (more respectable than usual for Marius) forty minutes later, only ten minutes behind the schedule Courfeyrac had planned for them up until he lost himself watching Marius sleep. Marius can’t contain his languid giggling as they walk through the crisp, October sunlight, his spare arm draped across Courfeyrac’s shoulder. Courfeyrac holds him up by the waist, laughing with Marius and unable to quell his smirk each time Marius winces at a sharp step or limps around a sharp corner.

They make it to the shelter, a rustic, brick building covered with vines that appears older on the outside, just after 8 am. A slight crowd huddles around the steps to the entrance, so they pull apart to clasp hands to make their way into the vibrant, mauve door (Mabeuf’s favorite color) and down the stairs to where another crowd awaits them.

Inside, the shelter is painted in murals of vibrant blues and reds, covered by a wooden floor; the floral theme flowing throughout the walls speaks to another of Mabeuf’s passions. The main room appears full to burst with people and animals both, while individuals trickle through the various hallways and smaller rooms branching off the center room. Courfeyrac smiles to himself as Marius’ grip tightens around his hand.

“What if we’re too late?” Marius asks as they take note of the myriad of people already gathered around various gates and boxes. He tries to ignore the churning in his gut that agrees with Marius’ worrying.

“Nonsense. We have many animals still in need of a good home. That’s why we’re having this sale, as it were.” Mabeuf approaches with his twinkling eyes, bounteous beard, and a sweater that matches the shelter’s front door before engulfing them both in a bear hug.

 “So what’s your preference, cat, dog, or one of each?” He inquires as he releases them. Courfeyrac makes to answer when Marius suddenly drops his hand and makes for the left corner in the back of the room without another word. He goes to follow him as Mabeuf laughs.

“Courfeyrac!” Joly waves to him over to his left, where Bossuet and Musichetta with a tiny golden retriever in her arms stand beside him.

Distracted, he makes his way over to them, where he finds Jehan cooing over another puppy behind Joly. Bossuet and Musichetta introduce him to Hippocrates, or Hippo, for short, who promptly slobbers all over his chartreuse waistcoat as he laughs.

“Is Marius with you?” Joly inquires a few minutes later as Courfeyrac attempts to dislodge the hem of his shirt from Hippo’s mouth.

“Oh yes, but he took off like a bat out of hell almost as soon as we got here.” He replies as Bossuet takes back his new puppy. “I’ll go and fetch him, as it were.”

He winks as Musichetta and Bossuet groan good-naturedly and Joly lets out a genuine giggle before making for the direction in which he thought he saw Marius disappear. He doesn’t have to wander for long, coming upon Marius by a cage in the farthest left corner of the room, pacing about while cradling a bundle of black fur.

Courfeyrac feels himself melt into a puddle of goo on the wooden floor.

Marius, completely unaware of the outside world, holds the tiny kitten to his chest, mumbling nonsense as he walks in slow circles. Occasionally, a tiny paw bats at his nose and he giggles before tickling at the small being in his arms.

Courfeyrac finds himself aware of the sheer lack of people in this corner; he realizes that this tiny kitten was all alone. His heart breaks as he understands how and why Marius was so quick to come to this particular corner of the room. Echoes of a solitary, unpleasant upbringing flicker through his thoughts in Marius’ words, and he finds himself wishing they’d done more to vandalize M. Gillenormand’s cold, lavish home while they’d had the chance.

“Ack!” Courfeyrac starts from his thoughts at the yelp, rushing over to find Marius squirming, suddenly without a cat.

“Courfeyrac, help, I-” He bursts out into giggles as his shirt ripples like a tide pool wave on his back. “She’s gotten under my shirt!”

“The clever minx! She takes after me already and she doesn’t even know me yet.” Courfeyrac moves around as Marius continues to fidget. “Hold still, dear. We don’t want to traumatize the newest member of the family now, do we?”

Marius manages to still himself long enough for Courfeyrac to extract the kitten from his shirt, though not without stepping on his toes several times in a row.

“Well, my feet will live, at least.” Courfeyrac grins as Marius keeps apologizing, before glancing down at the ball of black fur in his hands. The creature blinks up at him with eyes like Marius’ and mews; she starts rubbing her head against his chest, purring, and Courfeyrac knows there is no hope for him.

“So what shall we name her?” He all but whispers, petting her with reverence as Marius comes to stand beside her.

“You like her?” Marius asks shyly, resting his chin on Courfeyrac’s shoulder.

“Darling, between the two of you, my heart is fit to burst.” He says, tilting his head to plant a quick kiss to his lips. “So, her name then?”

“I was thinking Stella Luna, like the bat.” Marius suggests in a tone that informs Courfeyrac he’d settled on the name as he soon as he saw the cat. Courfeyrac thinks his life can’t possibly get any more perfect.

“Stella Luna it is, then.”

 


End file.
